


Mr. Stark Is So 90s

by orphan_account



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Awesome Jane Foster, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feels, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Battle of New York (Marvel), Tony Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 01:03:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4371221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, Tony wondered what human meant. Was it a species? Description of certain accepted behaviors in society? A concept largely formed of meaningless experiences? He didn’t know, but he wondered. Was he even human? All he knew was that he didn’t have a place, not after flying through a wormhole, not after dying and coming back and feeling the coldness of drifting in nothingness, not after being one with it and swimming in that vast, unknown void. His sanity wasn’t the only thing New York had taken away from him, Tony was pretty sure that it was his place on earth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mr. Stark Is So 90s

**Author's Note:**

  * For [27dragons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/gifts).



> Inspired by this post on tumblr! http://everyworldneedslove.tumblr.com/post/121626364564/musicalluna-okay-i-just-read-a-meta-about-how

Sometimes, Tony wondered what human meant. Was it a species? Description of certain accepted behaviors in society? A concept largely formed of meaningless experiences? He didn’t know, but he wondered. If a person was past the traditional norms of existence, would that render them something different than a human? What about exceeding a normal human being’s physical and mental prowess? Did that mean Cap wasn’t human? Natasha? Bruce?

Was he even human?

He had seen many, many things, far past what anyone was supposed to. He had broken the laws of time and space over and over, so many times, he had come to play with that fabric, that thing that held dimensions, universes and time together, and Tony had done it so naturally, like it was normal, like it was _human_. He didn’t know if it was, or if he was. If he had been. Or what he was. All he knew was that he didn’t have a place, not after flying through a wormhole, not after dying and coming back and feeling the coldness of drifting in nothingness, not after being one with it and swimming in that vast, unknown void. His sanity wasn’t the only thing New York had taken away from him, Tony was pretty sure that it was his place on earth. Was he even alive? And if so, how? Why? He didn’t understand, and that petrified him, because oblivion and ignorance meant being back inside that void, with nothing around him and his being reduced to nothing and so soullessly empty that just the thought made him shiver. It was cold, so cold, a place where matter or energy didn’t exist, a place that didn’t exist itself, and Tony just didn’t believe he had come out of it. He wasn’t there, maybe it was a projection of him, or a fragment of what his soul used to be. Maybe Richards had whipped up one of those weird machines of his and trapped his mind somewhere else; maybe Xavier was giving him a temporary rest of mind so that he could leave in peace. Tony knew that it just couldn’t be. Every equation said so, every law said so. Tony himself did.

He couldn’t shake off the feeling that this world was fleeting, that it would disappear before long. Maybe it wasn’t even real, and Tony was supposed to wait for the mask to drop, or maybe it was a dream world, just a figment of imagination. Maybe he wasn’t even Tony Stark.

Wherever in the multiverse he was, or if this was real at all, it wasn’t permanent. It would collapse, sooner or later, just like every world created by tears in the fabric of space-time. Tony wasn’t supposed to get attached, wasn’t supposed to mistake this as reality. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. It was so obvious that it wasn’t, Tony didn’t even need any further proof. In a real world, he wouldn’t be alive. Even if he was, he wouldn’t be a part of Avengers. He wasn’t supposed to get invited to team bonding sessions, or to dinner. He wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a consultant. He wouldn’t get those sympathetic eyes, or those thoughtful cups of coffee. He would get hate, and more of it, and nothing except that. That was who he was. That was who he was supposed to be.

He remembered the darkness. He remembered having the idea of lights flashing and not being able to see it, knowing that it was happening but not being able to perceive it at the same time, he remembered everything simultaneously happening and then nothing happening at all, as if it had been complete silence and nothingness form the start. And it had driven Tony crazy, not knowing, knowing wrong and just knowing. He didn’t remember how much time he spent wherever that had been, and he didn’t know how he came out, or if he did, but it hadn’t felt like time was flowing. It had been solid as a frozen cube of ice, unmoving and stable and unbreakable, and Tony just couldn’t figure out what outside force could have possibly shattered it. It had been a prison for his mind and soul and the energy that made up what he was, with no escape and no light and just nothingness, with absolutely no sense of time, nothing flowing, nothing continuing, nothing happening. There couldn’t possibly be a word to describe it, because there had been nothing to be described. Complete emptiness, but infinity at the same time, and just desperation clouding every second of the unknown amount of agonizing moments he had had in there.

And Tony was sure that this wasn’t real, because he couldn’t have just escaped that place to arrive in this heaven. People acted like they genuinely cared and respected, no one judged, no one insulted, and Tony had never had that before, even before he had flown through that wormhole. It hadn’t been for him, people had told him that so many times, that he could never have love, he couldn’t buy it, he couldn’t build it, he couldn’t invent it. There was no way it would happen, because it wasn’t one of Tony’s capabilities, there was no equation of love, there was no theory. He couldn’t forge the bond by creating a new element or building an energy source, by talking or thinking. He didn’t know how he could. He didn’t know _if_ he could.

And all of this given freely to him was just…so unreal, and Tony was so pitiful for wanting to stay. This dream was better than any reality he had and could have had, it was everything he wanted and more of it, surreal and just so alluring… but Tony wouldn’t succumb to it. Sometimes, when he managed to fall asleep, he would be in that void again, that emptiness that ate away his existence, and Tony couldn’t, wouldn’t wake up until an external occurrence alerted him, just like that thing that had shattered the ice the first time. It was so scary to know that he was dependent on other people to be able to escape that nightmare, because it had never happened before, he had never gone to his parents’ bed to sleep in, he had never let himself be vulnerable. He had never needed people. He had built and created to make the horror go away before, and found that it worked too. His fears would squeeze into themselves and disappear as he made a new being, a new existence, as he added another variable to the equation of space-time. It was his magical gateway to escape wherever he wanted whenever he did, and the idea of having nothing to do that with, of being in that nothingness was so scary, because Tony knew that there would be no option but to confront it. There would be no one to save him. There had never been anyone.

In real life, he would have never been enough. He had never been. Not for Howard to like him enough, not enough to make Rhodey choose him over America, not enough for Pepper to give him a chance. Definitely not nearly enough to be an Avenger.

Not enough for there _to_ be anyone.

-

Steve knew it the moment he looked in his eyes after the wormhole that there was something wrong with Tony, he just did. He couldn’t spot the confidence and the pride that was supposed to be there, he couldn’t make out the shimmering potential and the wondrous depth behind that chocolate brown. He could only see fear.

Admittedly, he hadn’t heard too many good things about Tony Stark or known him well enough to make comments on his behavior. Natasha’s report said enough about him, so did all his folders and files at SHIELD, but somehow, Steve couldn’t bring himself to deem all of them true. He had seen and experienced Tony’s recklessness first hand, the selflessness and mindless rushing behind his actions, the bravery and the way he made crazy impossibilities true, how he broke and shattered every expectation and aspect of reality if it meant being able to help. Maybe he wasn’t the most social or considerate of people; at least in the way everyone imagined he should be (he winced as he remembered _capsicle_ ) but he didn’t believe that those were done on purpose, not after the thoughtful presents Tony made all of them, all efforts to keep them safe, not after going to battle with him countless times. After seeing the fear in Tony’s eyes that day… no. He was convinced that that wasn’t everything there was to the man called Tony Stark. He just knew that there was something else behind the shell, just like Tony being under the Iron Man armor. It was him, in a way, it was him using a fruit of his intellect and wonderful, colorful mind that Steve knew he would never come to understand fully, but it was so different than Tony. Somehow, Steve was sure that people, including the rest of the Avengers, got Tony wrong when thinking he was open about wealth and genius and owning so many things. Steve thought Tony was always hiding. Barricading. Keeping secrets.

He observed Tony very closely, telling himself that it was only because Tony was part of the team that he had to lead. Somehow, Tony didn’t ever notice, half the time because he was busy with other things, and the rest because he simply didn’t look, as if not quite sure that he should. As if he was scared to. Steve just didn’t understand why, couldn’t comprehend what Tony could have seen to take that shimmering brilliance away from him. He continued to show Tony that he didn’t have to be scared, he brought him coffee and lunch when Tony was in the workshop, he made an effort into joking to him about the pop culture of this day he was still learning, he always dragged him out for team bonding exercises and movie nights and dinners. Strangely, it just seemed to push Tony away more, to build an invisible wall between them, and Steve didn’t like it, he didn’t like the wince Tony would give him with each joke, didn’t want the shiver that ran down his spine every time he tried to speak. He wanted to know what was going on in Tony’s head, maybe to reverse it, but he knew that he couldn’t, because it was impossible for him to understand something as complexly layered as Tony’s mind. He wasn’t stupid, of course he wasn’t, but battle techniques wouldn’t help him understand science and maths and whatever it was Tony had seen there. Steve knew men well, but not the stars.

He considered Bruce, because he had seen Tony and him, interacting casually down in the lab and talking about things that Steve couldn’t and probably never would understand. It was a good chance, because if Tony had a bond with any of them it would be with Bruce, after all the time they had spent together in Tony’s workshop and lab, after all the sleepless nights and days of hard work they had shared. Steve admitted that if he could, he would solve the problem himself, dive into Tony’s ocean of ideas and thoughts and emotions, explore the far corners of his mind, but he knew that he didn’t know nearly enough to do so. The thought sank that Bruce wouldn’t be able to do it either, because the knowledge was there and prominent in Bruce’s head maybe, but the confusion was there too. Bruce already felt like he wasn’t a part of the team and acted like it, all shy and uneasy around all of them except Tony, and Steve genuinely didn’t know if it would work to make Bruce speak to Tony about his demons. Mostly because he didn’t know what Bruce would feel.

There was that weird tingling feeling in his chest when he thought about it, Tony exposing his inner world to someone else, to someone that could take advantage of it, and a surge of protectiveness washed over him. He shook his head to clear his mind. He didn’t have that kind of attachment to Tony, wasn’t personally acquainted with him anywhere that was past the conversations they shared in the five minutes it took for Tony to finish one mug of coffee. Tony was his responsibility as team leader, he reminded himself. He didn’t know Tony. He wanted to, but didn’t. Not yet anyway.

-

The team got more aware of it as time passed too, and Tony became everyone’s source of worry. They would see the thought Tony put in all his actions when interacting with them, how he furrowed his brow and frowned each time he bit back sentences of sarcasm, how he ran away from every opportunity that would leave him alone in a room with one of them. Tony had been nothing but good to them, designing and replacing all their weapons and equipment and making them easier and safer to use than any SHIELD tech, getting them the best of everything, decorating all their personal floors to their liking. He never did it openly, things would just appear with notes on how to use them and instructions to ask JARVIS if they didn’t understand. Natasha had just come back from a mission to find a walk in closet installed into her private floor, complete with everything she had ever wanted and never allowed to have, just like Steve had found his studio, Bruce his lab and Clint his game room. At first they had written it off as Tony flaunting his money in their faces, because that was what Natasha’s report and the newspapers always said. Tony Stark wasn’t supposed to be caring about their welfare.

But it got distinctly obvious over time, when Tony gave them those worried glances after battle and somehow almost always managed to get injured while doing a reckless thing to finish the day up sooner. Tony’s instinct to protect was strong, they all got that after a while, but never quite understood the tendency to put himself in danger. Tony was precious. He should be so to himself too. He was constantly a source of stable support in their heads, just like Steve was. A pillar. No file about him said that he fit the profile of one, but they knew that he wasn’t going anywhere, that he wasn’t leaving. The concern and worry was etched into every little thing he did, all the time, even as he made coffee for all of them or switched the channel on the TV, thinking about whether they’d like it or not. Maybe he kept away as much as he could, but he cared a lot more than that. It took time, a very long time for them to understand and see all those little things, but a short while to appreciate them. Appreciate Tony. Value him. And that only made the concern grow.

Somehow, everything slipped into a comfortable routine. Tony was worrying all of them, because he was doing everything to earn their love and demanding none of it. He wasn’t eating much, wasn’t sleeping or resting nearly enough. He was never completely relaxed around them, sitting stiffly at the corner during movie nights and barely touching the food in dinners. He would jump in front of them in battle, which was annoying because they could all take care of themselves or had some sort of training to do so, some sort of power, all except Tony, who was more vulnerable than any of them inside that suit. It was as if Tony thought he didn’t exist, as if he thought he didn’t matter, and that was exactly why they were so worried about the whole attitude in the first place, because what if that was what Tony actually wanted? What if he didn’t want to be there at all?

They all had the things no one would question, the things buried in their past, the things that had made them into what they were, that boundary no one could cross. No one asked Natasha about the Red Room, or Steve about Bucky, or Bruce about what had made him the Hulk. They learned to not question, so no one was constantly nagging at Tony and demanding to know what he wasn’t telling them. No one even understood if there was something, but taking the sight of Tony shaking whenever New York was mentioned as evidence, there probably was.

Tony was mostly a closed box. He would struggle to protect and rebuild and make, but that was all they knew about him. He wouldn’t open up to anyone, not even to Bruce. He wouldn’t do anything openly, wouldn’t speak to them in his previously confident, comfortable manner. He still had his guests utterly mesmerized in every gala he went to, but that was just another Tony, another fort he had built himself to shade whatever he was feeling, and it would make Steve fret about whether Tony needed an escape or just more barricading. He didn’t know what was going on in Tony’s head, but it was burning him, the team, everyone that wanted to help him. Tony simply didn’t want to be helped, not by an insider, and was too scared to let an outsider in. Maybe that was the only thing that could help him.

-

 Thor wasn’t around constantly, choosing instead to stay over at Jane’s most of the time. Jane was a fascinating woman, Steve could say, and he understood why Thor would prefer that over the team with the limited amount of time he knew Thor would have with Jane. A lifetime would never be enough for him.

No one made a comment about it, but naturally, they all tried sticking together a lot more when Thor was around, to inform him that he always had a place in the team. Sticking together generally meant having to drag Tony out of his workshop, which was most of the time Clint’s self appointed responsibility. It was good for all of them, knowing that their team was together and in one piece, even though one of them was a god with too many responsibilities and too childish a soul for it, and another one was choosing to seclude himself and hide from them. Breakable obstacles, Steve thought. Nothing they couldn’t overcome. There would always have people to come home to, people to support them. That was what being an avenger meant.

This time, Thor had decided to bring Jane too. Natasha was trying to hide her joy, but having another person around for their sisterhood was nice and Pepper and Maria were over in no time to have a girl night (which was odd, you’d think that the CEO of a multibillion company and the second in command of a secret intelligence service would be busier than that, apparently not).

 Sometimes Steve forgot that they were all women. Natasha could kill with a dull spoon and not even flinch, Hill was a ruthless commander, and Pepper was downright scary with the half of world economy and technological advancement she held in her two hands. And Jane…Steve admired the woman’s mind, her understanding of the stars and time and space. He would never, ever make the mistake of underestimating a woman. He had met Peggy Carter, and if that hadn’t taught him not to, he would be damned.

They decided to have a movie night, with Jane and Thor being around and all a little team bonding could do, but had to wait until the girls were done with…whatever it was they were doing, so Clint suggested they go and coax Tony into coming out of his workshop and go drinking after that. Steve and Thor couldn’t really get drunk, and Bruce wouldn’t touch alcohol for obvious reasons most of the time, but they agreed anyway, making their way to Tony’s workshop.

For the first time, the door had been left open. It would always be closed, not necessarily on lockdown, but closed, it would need their codes to be opened, and the idea of danger was suddenly very real in Steve’s head, because he just knew that Tony wouldn’t leave the door open. His workshop was way more important to him than that. There was a fresh cup of coffee on his desk, and the bots were still humming and carrying stuff around, but Tony wasn’t in there. They took a call from the girls asking if Jane was with them. That was when Steve decided something was very wrong.

JARVIS wasn’t answering. That had never happened before.

They settled on looking everywhere in the tower before jumping to conclusions, but Hill did inform Fury and Pepper called Rhodes just in case. The tower was large, and searching through every room was bound to take time. They weren’t doing it individually, because although they were being optimistic and assuming Tony and Jane were still in the tower, the possibility of them having gotten kidnapped was very high. The girls searched the upper floors with Thor while he, Clint and Bruce took the ones below, in a state of urgent worry and stress. Because what if someone had gotten their hands on Tony? Without his armor nonetheless? No, Tony was still able to defend himself even without it; they knew that, but what if it was one of the big guys? No, no, Steve was not losing another comrade, not any time soon. No.

 And they found them.

“Nat, floor 67. You’ll want to see this.”

-

Jane was a little more excited to be visiting than she admitted to being. She had never met the Avengers before, and she doubted many people had, really, but she could see that childish smile on Thor’s face, the joy of going back to his team, his family on earth, with her this time. Jane was smiling at him the whole time too, because she just knew that they were good for Thor and half of what kept him on earth.

She had heard a lot about them, to the point where she could say she actually knew them on a basic level, as much as an outsider possibly could. Thor liked talking, and talking mostly included his time with the team, and Jane was just listening intently all the time. She loved the stories, she really did, and who wouldn’t? It made Thor smile, remembering all those things.

Natasha was fascinating Thor on so many levels, Jane was sure she would have been jealous if not for the respect and admiring she had for the woman and her abilities. Thor always talked of her as some sort of scary, overly able lady that reminded him of Sif, but always added that she was a real softie at heart and read teenage romance novels.

Thor always got Clint drunk, apparently. He had told her that Barton was trying really hard to beat him, but that after one glass of Asgardian ale at best, he would be passed out on the ground, and wouldn’t recover for about half a day, leaving Natasha’s hands full with a whiny Hawkeye. She suspected Natasha wasn’t overly fond of it.

She knew that Thor had the best friendship with Bruce and Steve, oddly. Bruce was apparently more comfortable whenever he was around, Thor had told her that it was likely because of his ability to subdue the Other Guy, and Steve and he had bonded over utter foreignness to today’s Midgard. She was having her sweet fun teaching Thor about all that, educating him like he were a small child, and it was a relief in more ways than one, really, Thor having someone else to share it with. She felt like she owed the Captain a thank you.

Like all the children of her time, of course she too had grown up with Captain America. Now being so easily able to reach the man was almost unearthly, because him being there broke at least nine primary scientific principles, but Jane was thankfully not as affected as the rest of her peers would be. She had grown up begging her parents for a telescope, not Captain America action figures, and while other kids had been reading those comics, she had had her head buried in books, exploring the unknown. Captain America would always stay there, as a reminder of her childhood, but never a deciding factor or a twisting point.

But Tony Stark…was another thing. Jane was from the generation that had gotten to follow Tony through all his transformations, his one-night stands and awards and wild parties. She wouldn’t deny that him being on the team hadn’t worried her at first, because she could trust his equations and technology but never the rest of his mind. He had a wonderful, beautiful one, with unknown capabilities and the potential to make the impossible happen, to think and make and do. She admired his possibly unrivalled intellect, his work and current motives, but never the man himself. He had made weapons, she reminded herself, he had drained and used and emptied everything he wanted to, just because he could. She didn’t trust him with the lives of so many people, let alone Thor’s delicate thoughts and opinions of earth and humanity that were just being shaped.

But then he had gone and flown through an actual wormhole to save earth, knowing clearly that he couldn’t come back. He had made the decision to make that sacrifice, not knowing whether it would work or not but risking it anyway, he had been prepared and ready for it. Jane wasn’t so sure that this was the Tony Stark she had seen on TV so many times, not the one magazines and newspapers spoke about.

She wondered what he could have possibly seen, what it could have felt like. Just the fact that opening a wormhole was possible sent chills through her body, because science had struggled to prove it for so long, so hard, and it had finally gotten proven, by Norse gods nonetheless. Jane wasn’t foolish enough to think that she would have wanted to be the one to fly through it under the circumstances that Tony had been given, and definitely not naïve enough to assume it had been the most pleasant of things. Fascinating, yes, breakthrough in astrophysics, yes, but so scary in so many ways too, Jane knew. She had always had a liking to the unknown, exploring and touching what had previously not existed, what could possibly exist, but confronting it so blindly, unprepared and unknowing…Jane didn’t know how that would affect any man, let alone a man like Tony Stark, who would have actually understood a little of what he was doing and just not known which way it would have ended. He had still done it.

She got to hear less about Tony than the rest of the team, because apparently he wasn’t around all that much, but the bits she heard were confusing at best. Thor always spoke about him affectionately, caringly, as if the man were delicate. She couldn’t understand, because she had seen Tony Stark interact with people on TV and knew that he was anything but considerate when doing so.

She valued science above all else, science and truth and unraveling what others couldn’t, so it wasn’t really surprising that she wanted to talk to Tony about it, was it? It didn’t really matter who the man was when it was science, after all. That was on her mind as they made their way to the tower and the Avengers greeted them. She was polite to them, of course she was, so she didn’t say anything when Agent Hill, Natasha and Ms. Potts dragged her to Natasha’s private floor. She looked at the women, all of them so powerful in so many ways, and felt a little uneasy at first, but quickly scratched that out in her head.

She couldn’t really say that she got bored, because it wasn’t every time that she got to paint nails and make girl talk with a super spy, an assassin and one of the most powerful women on the earth, but gradually her desire to talk to Tony about the things he had seen grew and overwhelmed the part of her that wanted to spend time with them. Jane excused herself quickly.

Jane found Tony in one of the common rooms, a smaller and comfy looking one with a couch and paper lamps illuminating it, but Tony definitely wasn’t in the position she had expected to find him. His eyes were closed, so Jane assumed that he was sleeping, but he was shivering uncontrollably, a blanket wrapped around his body and barely keeping his limbs in place. His hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat and brows creased, mumbling things that she couldn’t comprehend. He let out a scream that made her jump, and suddenly very aware of what sort of situation she was in.

She didn’t know what came over her, maybe some sort of maternal instinct or just her sheer respect for him being one of Thor’s friends, but she didn’t want to leave him there like that when he was in such obvious pain and discomfort. Just the idea that Tony Stark could have nightmares seemed wrong.

She went to him and touched his shoulder, shaking warily at first, and then urgently as Tony starting thrashing violently. Tony showed no signs of waking up as Jane panicked, already in the discomfort of being alone with a man she didn’t know in a room far away from where the rest of the team were, and how it could seem to all of them.

“Mr. Stark? Mr. Stark, you have to wake up.”

Surprisingly, that was all it took. Tony’s eyes snapped open instantly, with a sharp gasp, as he grasped Jane’s wrist firmly. Jane didn’t back away, didn’t flinch. She was more confident than that. She would admit to taking a deep breath of relief for resolving at least half of the awkwardness of their situation, and maybe a little caution as Tony’s rough hand clasped around her wrist, but nothing that could be proven.

“Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my tower? JARVIS, what the hell?”

Tony’s voice was strained, definitely far from calm, but not overly alert, like he had forced it down. Jane was almost sure he had.

“Miss Jane does not present any-“

She cut JARVIS off, both because she didn’t need someone else to introduce her and she felt a bit ridiculous in the position they were in.

“Jane Foster, I’m Thor’s-“

“Oh yeah. Jane. Thor’s mentioned something about bringing you before.”

Tony sighed, cupping his face roughly with his hand and closing his eyes.

“Why are you here? No one comes here, I don’t think anyone’s aware that this place even exists.”

Jane finally drew her hand back, wondering why the man was so relaxed about someone intruding on his private time.

“I…was meaning to ask you about the wormhole, if you don’t mind.”

Tony’s face immediately stiffened, hand dropping from his face and body straightening into a sitting position. He gave Jane a very stern look and didn’t reply, but that was exactly the moment Jane saw the panic and alarm in his eyes, the uncertainty and bare fear, and she just seemed to understand that it wasn’t that pleasant a topic for him.

“I could just-“

“No. No. Do you want to know what I saw? I’ll tell you.”

There was agitation and a hint of annoyance in his voice, but fear seemed to be very prominent. Jane considered if staying to listen was really the right thing to do.

“It was dark. And cold. And I don’t even know how, because it was empty. That was what it felt like. I have people like you come every day, kids even, asking about what it was like to be the big bad hero that saved the day. Scientists that want to know what it felt like. Do you have your answer now? Satisfied?”

 -

Tony needed sleep. He really did, and admitting to it only meant something was very wrong, because there was perfectly good and not toxic coffee sitting on his desk right now. Whiskey was in the drawer too, and he _had_ taken a nap _sometime_. Sleep was for the weak.

“Sir, with all due respect, it has been well over 72 hours. I will have to activate protocol alpha.11 and force you into sleeping if you are still not asleep by 80 hours.”

Jesus, JARVIS was like a tired suburban dad dealing with his problematic teenager. Tony could hear that metallic sound at the end of the sentence that meant he was sighing.

“Are you threatening me, J?”

“I wish for nothing but your welfare, sir.”

And Tony knew that that was true, really. That’s why he had given JARVIS the liberty of gassing him and making him drop flat on his face like a sack of shit when he wasn’t taking enough sleep.

He usually would not have complied, just maybe taken a small nap with his body half sprawled over his desk and half hanging in the air, but the last time he had done that had ended with the disastrous demise of one of his suits and that risk was not going to be taken again.

He remembered it, how scared Dum-e, You and Butterfingers had been, their arms loose as they had retreated to a corner together, all three of them, away from Tony. He didn’t know what he had done in his sleep, and he didn’t have the heart to ask JARVIS for the security footage. Somethings best stay hidden, and hey, he had treated all of them to extra oil hadn’t he? They were cool.

But Tony was not, because he had woken up with a goddamn screwdriver in his hand, and what the fuck had he been planning to do to them with that, Jesus Christ, he could have hurt them or taken them apart with that goddamn thing. He knew that he never would have woken up if not for the rampant electricity in the wires of the unfortunate armor shocking him. He couldn’t wake up without outside interference, so not sleeping at all was a much better option by default. He wouldn’t need anyone. He wouldn’t be vulnerable.

But it was either haul his ass upstairs or fall asleep halfway through working, or heaven forbid JARVIS forcing him, and he would still be in the workshop. No, no, he wasn’t going to take the risk of scaring his bots and ruining another armor. Only god knew how scared and panicked JARVIS had been that time, Jesus Christ, JARVIS who had called out to him so many times and not managed to wake him up.

He groggily went upstairs, vision blurry and his legs almost not supporting his weight because of the lack of alcohol and coffee in his veins. It appeared his whole body was already asleep.

There was a room, on floor sixty-seven, that he hadn’t showed anyone. It wasn’t a special room; really, it was probably the room with worst decoration and had been furnished with cheap ikea stuff that Tony would never admit to picking out. It wasn’t like anyone would look for him, but being on his own floor wouldn’t really help the secrecy, would it? That room would do, it was peaceful and far away enough for comfort, the nearest Avenger was Cap with a four-floor distance. It wasn’t like anyone would go looking for him anyway. Right?

Right.

“Turn off security cameras in the room, JARVIS. No matter what happens, no telling the team where I am. Wait, scratch that, we’re superheroes this is stupid, unless there is an immediate security threat.”

JARVIS naturally objected.

“But sir, turning off security monitoring would put you-“

“J, just…do it. Please.”

He just needed to know that there wouldn’t be anyone to see him in that state. No one could see his vulnerability, because Tony knew that it was a natural thing with human psychology to attack weaknesses. Just no, for once, please no more people that acted like they cared but waited for an opening. No.

He was anxiously stiff when he laid his head on the purple pillow that he normally kept under the couch. Sleep was torture, complete and utter torture and it was painful, but no other option seemed to be of any help in his situation. He closed his eyes.

Reality seemed to be seeping away, and Tony tried to force his eyes open and his mind awake, but it didn’t happen. He drifted off, not to the merry land of unconsciousness but right into that abyss again. It sucked him in, which was odd because Tony didn’t feel anything except the absence of everything that was supposed to be there and focused on the existence of himself and his thoughts and his mind. He was there. He wasn’t nothing. He wasn’t empty.

For Tony’s brain, everything was a tool. A piece of paper or a hair clip could turn into wonders if given the right circumstances, he could invent impossible technologies in a cave out of scrap and discover new elements in the span of hours, and he owed all of that to the practicality of his usual pattern of thought. Constantly moving or completely still objects would temper with that reflex of his, which was exactly why that weird decorative thing in Pepper’s office drove him absolutely insane with its weird metallic sticks and turning angles, or why he didn’t particularly like Steve’s still and serene floor.

And the idea of everything stopping, the lack of things to think and use and improve, the knowledge that maybe everything was inexistent…it scared Tony, left him as nothing but an unprotected child, because Tony was what he was only because of his mind, and it wasn’t supposed to disappear, not like this, it wasn’t supposed to vanish, it wasn’t supposed to feel like maybe it had never been there in the first place. He didn’t have any bonds to the earth except that, at least he didn’t think so. Pepper and Rhodey would feel bad for a while but they’d get over it, both being the workaholics they were, and maybe Steve would attend his funeral because of his old manners, but that was it. In the end there would be nothing to remember about him except that one missed call, because everything he owned was already Pepper’s and the things that weren’t hers he had signed off to the Avengers in case of his death. There was nothing that was really him, or anything that he could call his, except his mind.

He would think of Pepper and Rhodey, he would think about the Avengers and just question if he really was thinking or if it had all been a dream made up in his head. Maybe it was just too good to be true and this was true reality, solitude and emptiness and nothingness. Maybe this was who he was and who he always had been.

He didn’t know if his heart was beating, if he was breathing. Did he have a body? Had he had one before?

There was simply no escape. He couldn’t build himself a suit or power source this time, he couldn’t hijack anything or ruin any plans, because there was absolutely nothing. Just the thought of home very prominent at the back of his head, the idea of what he thought had been reality, and hope that he would be pulled out, other than that, only pure agony and helplessness and exactly no concept of time and space and existence.

Just hope.

And god bless, he _was_ pulled out. Abruptly and very thankfully, he became aware of having lungs and being able to breathe as he drew one shaky, aggressive breath. Life. Reality. Time.

His first instinct was to look at what had awakened him, naturally, and he saw a woman there, just behind the couch, looking at him with worried, conflicted brown eyes.

Natasha and Hill were good but not _this_ good; they couldn’t have possibly changed their appearance this much for a prank, could they? Tony doubted it. But then again, what the shit was this woman doing in his tower if she wasn’t one of those two?

He didn’t think anything could surprise him, he really didn’t.

“Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my tower? JARVIS, what the hell?”

He instantly remembered that he had turned security surveillance off, rendering JARVIS unable to warn whoever this was and prevent her coming in. Tony cursed himself at times like this.

“Miss Jane does not present any-“

Jane seemed like a familiar name-

“Jane Foster, I’m Thor’s-“

Oh yeah, Jane! The astrophysicist chick that dated Thor, right? He knew that one. Better clear this mess quickly, he thought, weirdly sure that getting caught by a Norse god while alone with their woman wouldn’t turn out nicely.

“Oh yeah. Jane. Thor’s mentioned something about bringing you before."

He cupped his face roughly. Nothing seemed to go his way these days. Why the fuck was he still sticking around? Tony Stark would have gotten bored of not getting his way, he wouldn’t be thinking about circumstances, his actions, he would have been cleverer than to sleep on a common floor.

It was almost as if he had wanted to be found.

He didn’t, he really didn’t. Remembering wouldn’t do him any good, it wouldn’t. Drawing away and hiding was much better, because Tony knew that it would always be transparent to other people of he did so.

“I…was meaning to ask you about the wormhole, if you don’t mind.”

Ha. People always assumed that he wouldn’t, weirdly enough, the kids and the scientists and the people that seemed to be obsessed about superheroes.

Tony understood what it was like, to want to know all about the impossible, to idolize it. He had done so himself in his youth, when Steve had still been his one and only escape.

_Steve Rogers would give everyone a chance,_ aunt Peggy had said. _If he doesn’t give you onr, even god can’t save your soul._

_You can’t be as good as a nail of his,_ Howard had pointed out too, _and you will never be._

He understood why Steve hadn’t given him a chance, he understood why Steve hated him at the start, he really did. It was instinctive for people to hate him, always had been. He just didn’t understand what changed it. How it could all be real.

But no, he couldn’t be Steve, as Howard had so basically and simply put, he couldn’t take the responsibility of having to be strong, of not being allowed to be scared or escape. He couldn’t be the idol to all the kids that admired him; he couldn’t answer their question because he couldn’t get past the fear. Tony wasn’t that, he wasn’t Steve, he wasn’t a hero. He was a _coward_.

But as he looked in Jane’s eyes, curiosity in them, he couldn’t help but lose it, because it was a _lie_. He could take kids, they were kids and Tony wouldn’t ever _think_ of breaking their dreams, wouldn’t dare because he knew how horrible it was. He could take the clueless people on the streets that had watched him on the TV, not knowing if they would be alive or dead the next morning until he made that call. He could take the clueless scientists, interested in these things that they had all thought myth, interested in how he had come out, because he was wondering that too. He could run from all of them. He could show them another face, he could always flee and disappear and he knew that no one would find him, because no one would look. It was fine. They weren’t close. They couldn’t crack him.

He couldn’t take _Jane_. Because Jane probably knew, she must have asked, she had made all that research on this subject her whole life. Thor must have told her, during his first visit to earth or after New York. Jane could have asked him, she must have, she was purposefully asking this.

“No. No. Do you want to know what I saw? I’ll tell you.”

He was tired, so very tired, both physically and mentally. He had to sleep, he had to brush her off like he normally would, he had to show her that he was strong. He was Tony Stark, genius billionaire playboy philanthropist. Tony fucking Stark. He was strong, he was capable, he-

He didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. His vision was swaying slowly, an obvious reminder of the sleep he should have taken, his hands and limbs were slightly trembling and he couldn’t seem to control them, couldn’t seem to find his reflexes and use his muscles. He couldn’t feel. He couldn’t close his eyes or look away. Maybe it was Jane and the fierceness in her gaze, or maybe it was everything, not being enough, not matching up to any of the expectations, being a coward. Maybe it was the question of reality screaming in his head, or the need to hold on to something, the need to fight and prove right and just mock. Maybe it was just his weakness, in every form, resurfacing.

But he answered, like a wounded soldier, like he was barely hanging on to his sanity, desperately, pitifully. He didn’t know why. He couldn’t feel why. He didn’t really care either.

“It was dark. And cold. And I don’t even know how, because it was empty. That was what it felt like. I have people like you come every day, kids even, asking about what it was like to be the big bad hero that saved the day. Scientists that want to know what it felt like. Do you have your answer now? Satisfied?”

What was this thing? Anger? Was it sadness? Frustration? He didn’t know. Nothing had fueled him this much, not marching to death, not almost losing everything, not _anything_. And of all things it was the fucking emptiness that had tamed him, a concept that defied all his ideas and thoughts and opinions, and it was scary, so scary, because Tony was not used to not being able to hide.

He hadn’t meant to sound like that, he really hadn’t, but he somehow did, and he knew that Jane picked it up, because he could see the hesitation in her eyes, how she withdrew. Yes, good, this was it. Even in this state, he was still enough to drive people away. He hadn’t gone insane yet. Good.

Or maybe he had, because just as Jane took a few steps back, just as he thought she had disappeared and gone away, she came and promptly sat next to him, fumbling with the things inside her bag. She took out a handkerchief, lacy and frilly with her initials sewn on it, holding it out to him.

“Here.”

He didn’t understand why he would need a handkerchief, let alone why she would care. He wasn’t sneezing or coughing, there was no reason for the lady to worry that he was going to get his germs all over him as well as being an ass, was there? Oh.

Oh.

Since when was he crying? 

He didn’t take it. He wiped that one tear away with the back of his sleeve. He didn’t need help, he never had, he wouldn’t get it, he wouldn’t be given any. No. No.

Jane heaved a sigh. She withdrew her hand, looking directly into his eyes with so much compassion and sympathy, things that he didn’t deserve, things that he never had. Tony wished she would just leave and spare him the embarrassment. She had gotten what she wanted, hadn’t she? What else did she want? Wasn’t crying enough of a weakness?

“Why are you still here? You got what you needed. You can fuck off now.”

She didn’t even flinch, only softened her eyes more. Sickening, sickening brown eyes, mocking solicitude, fake concern. No.

“Mr. Stark, the things you saw…may not have been pleasant. But they are wonderful. I hope you realize that.”

Why was she still talking? Why was she bothering?

“Can you imagine it, Mr. Stark? A shortcut to another dimension, or another part of the universe? Can you see the possibilities? You created all that. We aren’t Norse gods, we can’t understand their ways and they can’t explain it, but you…you confronted that. You proved that we could do it. All of us. Science.”

Did that mean Thor never had told her? No, no, that couldn’t be true. Why would Jane be here if not to hurt him? Why would anyone?

“I was always interested in the stars. Don’t you sometimes get that feeling? Don’t you ever feel like it’s not enough, the things that we know, don’t you feel like you want to make more? Unravel? I’m not an engineer, Mr. Stark. I can’t make. I can only think, and I can write theories, but I can’t be the one to fly inside the spaceship. I can’t be the one to create it.”

“You can do all that. You did, so many times. And this time… just imagine the possibilities. Imagine the stars and the galaxies and new planets…there’s life out there. There’s so much that we haven’t explored.”

Tony watched her, lost in her own world and thoughts. He saw it in her eyes. Genuine, pure amazement. Wonder.

“Maybe they already know how black holes can be contained. Maybe they create them? I don’t know. How about bridges? This means that all sorts of bridges are possible, Mr. Stark, not to mention rendering the String Theorem incomplete! It breaks quantum physics and the laws they had, and astrophysics is being reinvented to suit it. This…this is a breakthrough.”

“I actually completed that theory ages ago. Richards never believed me.”

That…Tony hadn’t planned that response. It had been instinctive. Natural. Confident.

A part of what he used to be.

“What do you think there is beyond time? Will it collapse in on itself? The wormhole must have given you a general idea of a space-time fabric anomaly?”

Tony stopped. He just…stared at her. He didn’t see Jane, he didn’t see Thor’s lover, he didn’t have the respect her for that. He saw a child, in wonder and astonishment and awe.

He saw himself, so long ago, when he had been young and eager to do something, anything. When he hadn’t known nearly enough to do all that he wanted and known too much to do what he was supposed to, when he had been discovering and creating with flaws and learning, when he was reading all the academic texts on every branch of science to quench his internal thirst for knowledge.

He saw a fellow scientist. He saw potential.

“I…felt it. Emptiness. There’s nothing beyond time. It doesn’t exist. It isn’t supposed to be there. No matter and no flow. Nothing. No existence.”

He flinched when Jane moved a little, because he was suddenly very aware of what he had said. He wasn’t supposed to show weakness, not to anyone, he wasn’t supposed to be there at all; maybe he was still there. Had he come out? Was this real? It wasn’t, no, couldn’t be. He was dead. Inexistent. Drifting somewhere.

He stopped when Jane leaned in with that handkerchief and wiped a tear.

Jane just looked at him, completely serious, her eyes wide and mouth slightly open.

“Maybe that _is_ existence?”

Tony wanted to laugh, to cry at that. How could a void without anything to sense be true existence? It was nothingness, no, it couldn’t be a container for anything that existed. Time wasn’t flowing. Time wasn’t relevant.

But then he remembered that feeling…utter nothingness, nothing but him, his mind, his thoughts. Nothing but his awareness. Nothing but an advanced state of consciousness and crazy mental capabilities, not restricted by time, matter, or stabile constants. Only variables that he could play with and change, in his head, depending all on his mind.

Was that death? Was that the true start?

“I…don’t know.”

And he really didn’t. For the first time, he didn’t wonder either. Having limits suddenly seemed much more convenient. It seemed much more freer than not. Happier.

He had wasted so much time questioning and searching for answers…really, he had just been entertaining himself and being selfishly absorbed in a quest he had know he would never finish. He looked back, at all his memories with the Avengers, remembering all the effort they had put into interacting with him. Steve putting himself on coffee duty, Bruce cooking for him, Clint always caring enough to coax him out of the workshop for some fresh air…

And Tony knew. He knew that the only obstacle between reality and him was his own self.

“I… grew up watching you. Wondering if you had a heart. And you do, Mr. Stark. I realize that now. You’re a hero.”

He sighed. He remembered all the insults, all the expectations and judgments, the mistakes and cruelty and sometimes the luxury…they had built that wall, they had built that side of him. A thick, grey wall, between him and everything he could have, everything he had been offered and simply been too scared to take. He himself had been his only enemy until now.

He broke it.

“Tell me, Jane, what are your thought on the new addition to the negative mass theory? And Tony, it’s Tony, Mr. Stark is so 90s.”

-

Steve had expected Thor to be frantic, but not enough to fly in through a window and shatter it. He stood behind him and the door, Clint and Bruce also taking stance next to him. They couldn’t have an angry Norse god in the tower and near an already frantic Bruce. He looked at Natasha, motioning to Thor with his eyes. Natasha understood, after all the missions they had gone on and all the battles. They knew each other.

She discreetly moved her hand to her back, putting on her bracelets and taking her gun in her hand. The same unspoken conversation happened between Clint and her, while he eyed eyed Bruce. They would distract Thor while Steve took Bruce to safety.

Thor anxiously made his way over to them, Natasha looking at Hill and pointing at Pepper. She was a civilian, Hill would take care of her protection if need be.

Steve took a deep breath, feeling Clint’s shoulder muscles clench as Thor stood right in front of them and looked at the sight inside the room.

Steve was ready to tackle him to the ground, hands no longer at his sides but actually dangerously close to Thor’s body when he heard a little sigh escape him. He had ducked his head anticipating that he would have to take action, so he hadn’t seen the small smile tugging at Thor’s lips, slightly tilted to the side.

Jane took exactly that moment to turn her head and look at them, an instant grin coming to her face. She raised one finger to her lips, making a loud hushing sound.

“Shh, he just fell asleep."

Tony’s head was on her lap, his hair messy and eyes closed, and Steve was suddenly very aware of how long his lashes were. He was more relaxed than Steve had ever seen him; he seemed almost too young to be that Tony, and Steve wondered what could have possibly changed.

He looked at Thor, still showing no sign of going to battle or calling Mjolnir and interestingly exhibiting no homicidal tendencies. Thor gently nudged him as he entered the room, and Steve would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little worried at that moment, but Thor turned to him and smiled.

“My lady has helped our friend Anthony confront himself, I see.”

He looked so wise in that moment, completely away and sterile form his usual childish mirth, serious and somehow tender at the same time. Almost fatherly.

Sometimes he forgot that Thor was a god, that he had been alive for centuries, millennia, maybe eons. Behind his obliviousness to this world and his young face was the experience of hundreds of thousands of years, knowledge and ancient mastery over leading, over reading people. Of course he had seen Tony, hiding himself, battling himself, repeating it over and over and getting further away, taking a piece of himself apart each time.

He looked at Thor, one hand firm on Jane’s shoulder as they gazed at each other, with so much love and respect and all the adoration in the world. With trust.

He looked at Tony, so at peace, a faint smile on his sleeping face and his sleeping form comfortable curled on the couch.

Steve had always known from the start that they could break the obstacles between them. They had.

Steve smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! You can follow my tumblr here http://imsailingwithstony.tumblr.com


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